the ship passed the island, he obeyed, he called, ' Great Pan is dead!'
And, at once, in response to his shout, all along the coast (though the island was uninhabited), sounded loud sobs, moans, long-drawn-out, plaintive wailings. 'Dead! dead is great Pan!' I recalled this story . . . and a strange thought came to. 'What if I call an invocation?'
But in the sight of the exultant, beauty around me, I could not think of death, and with all my might I shouted, 'Great Pan is arisen! arisen!' And at once, wonder of wonders, in answer to my call, from all the wide half-circle of green mountains came peals of joyous laughter, rose the murmur of glad voices and the clapping of hands. 'He is arisen! Pan is arisen!' clamoured fresh young voices. Everything before me burst into sudden laughter, brighter than the sun on high, merrier than the brooks that babbled among the grass. I heard the hurried thud of light steps, among the green undergrowth there were gleams of the marble white of flowing tunics, the living flush of bare limbs. . . . It was the nymphs, nymphs, dryads, Bacchantes, hastening from the heights down to the plain. . . .
All at once they appear at every opening in the woods. Their curls float about their god-
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